Over Christmas break, I had a medical scare that apparently was just a nasty virus. But when you go to the hospital on account of fainting and you’re a 33-year-old, otherwise-healthy woman, everyone asks you if you could have fainted because you might be pregnant. And by everyone, I mean the ambulance medics, the first nurse, the second nurse, the doctor, and the radiologist. It got a bit exhausting explaining that I couldn’t possibly be pregnant because I have no eggs.

I also held out the tiniest bit of hope that maybe this was why I fainted. Maybe I actually was pregnant. Maybe this trip to the ER would turn out to be a Christmas miracle.

I was recently talking to a friend who said her parents had opted not to “do Christmas” this year in the way they had before. I wondered if perhaps this was because she and her brother were single and her sister had a boyfriend, but no kids. In other words, like many people, her parents believed “Christmas is for children.” And since there were no children to dote on, they might as well not do Christmas in their family.

When I asked my friend if this might be the reason, she said, “Yes. You nailed it.” And of course, she was sad about it. Because what better way to rub salt in the wound than to say, “You’re single and childless. There’s no point in ‘doing Christmas’ with you.”?

At first it was fun, trying for a baby that is. I kept a stash of pregnancy tests under my bathroom cabinet and would test constantly through the month. I just knew it would happen at any time. My mom got pregnant with me on her honeymoon, accidentally. If my Mom was a Fertile-Myrtle I figured I would be too. I had no reason to believe otherwise.

Trying for a baby is an interesting thing. For many people in the first few years of marriage, the only thing you are trying to do is “prevent” until you deem yourself ready. Then once you decide the time is right, you expect your body to obey on command.

For a long time, I kept my feelings associated with infertility to myself. And when I say to myself, I mean all to myself. I didn’t talk much to my family, my friends, or even my husband about it. After all, I was the one who was sterile. This was my burden to bear. I started believing a lie, the lie that says, “You are all alone in this. No one will understand. There’s no reason to burden anyone with how you’re feeling about it, because they wouldn’t get it anyway.”

Two of my closest friends recently had their first babies, and I’ll admit, I was nervous about how it was all going to go down. I didn’t know what negative feelings might surface as I was reminded – yet again – that their story would never be my story. Read More

My husband and I started trying to get pregnant about 8+ years ago. We’d been married for a couple of years at that point and decided we were ready to grow our family and into the next phase of life. Little did we know how hard it would be to do that.

When it didn’t happen right away, I assumed it was because he traveled often and we didn’t always have the luxury of being together. At the time, we were stationed at a military base in North Carolina, so we did the best we could between deployments… I held out hope and charted my cycle… oh, and also did all the tricks… handstands and such. (You know what I’m talking about!)

We both waited for that inevitable moment when we would see our “plus sign.”

When my husband and I first found out I was infertile, we shared the news with some dear friends of ours. These friends are walk-by-faith kind of friends. They know everything is within God’s realm of possibility, and they live their lives as is that’s true. (These are great friends to have. If you don’t have any, find some.) When they found out the doctor told us we couldn’t have babies, the first thing they said was “Pray for a miracle!” Read More

Her words were hopeful, thoughtful even, as we sat on the giant rock staring out over the ocean. Her eyebrows were raised, her posture stiff, a question on her face, imploring if I was indeed mad at Him or not.Read More

I have always been a high achiever. A constant producer. Someone who gets things done. After being a woman who prided herself in her accomplishments for so long, you can imagine that being literallyunable to produce offspring was quite the blow to my ego.Read More

I’ve noticed that people like fixing other people’s problems, and the problem of infertility is no exception. In conversations with people about your infertility, have you ever heard anything similar to the following?

A friend of your friend was struggling to get pregnant. Then she and her husband fostered some children, and because she wasn’t so focused on getting pregnant anymore, she finally did. (In other words, your anxiety is the reason you’re not pregnant.)

A friend of your friend was trying to get pregnant, but then she adopted some children and now she is perfectly content as their mother. (In other words, you don’t have to parent biological children to be happy.)

A friend of your friend’s was having trouble getting pregnant. Then she adopted and realized God was truly the one in charge of her family. And now she’s pregnant with twins. (In other words, you also must not have given over everything to God yet. Otherwise, you would be pregnant too. Okay, that’s the pretty cynical interpretation. Maybe they are trying to say that God’s timing is not your timing.)